


That What You Fear the Most

by frek



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death Eaters, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-27
Updated: 2004-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frek/pseuds/frek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco's time has come to join the ranks of the death eaters, the one thing Draco fears the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That What You Fear the Most

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Musesfool's Lyrics Challenge on LJ in 2004.  
> Prompt:  
>  _That what you fear the most, could meet you halfway  
>  Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around_  
> "Crazy Mary" - Pearl Jam (Victoria Williams)

His heart skips a beat as the dark wardrobe opens. He knows what's behind the elaborately carved doors and he isn't prepared to see it.

Lucius steps away from the wardrobe, allowing the dark robes and white mask inside to be viewed by Draco. He smiles smugly down at his son, watching closely for the boy's reaction. He's been waiting for this day to come for the past year, waiting for his son to come of age and follow in his own illustrious footsteps.

Draco's eyes widen as the lurid white mask is revealed. He feels a lump in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. He tries to stop the emotions from showing on his face. The fear. The loathing. The disgust.

Draco makes his face like a mask -- just like the one in the wardrobe. Blank, unmoving. He can't let his father see his emotions, can't let the man in on how he feels.

Lucius sees Draco struggling with the events, but only for a moment. Before he can decipher the exact emotion on the young man's features, it disappears, replaced by a stony expression. Lucius nods his approval; he has taught his son well. Soon, he won't even allow that fleeting glimpse of emotion show, a great step from the expressive child he used to be. He motions for Draco to take the garments from the wardrobe.

Draco closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and swallows the lump in his throat before stepping toward the wardrobe. He takes his time, making every step count, his eyes locking on the expressionless mask. It's creepy, the way the dark empty eyes stare back at him.

Draco sneaks a glance over to his father, who nods his head approvingly. He doesn't know why he feels so trepid about the articles before him, he just knows the whole situation frightens him. He reaches out a timid hand to the starched white silk mask, running his fingers along the curve of the nose and the dip where the lips form. The fabric is smooth despite it's stiffness, the feel of it sending shivers down his spine. He wonders how the fabric will feel on the delicate skin of his face, realizing it won't be long before he finds out.

Draco reaches behind the mask and pulls out the black robe. The fabric of the robe is rougher than that of the mask; he can feel the individual threads of the fabric between his fingers. He pulls the robe on. The large sleeves fit comfortably around his clothes and it fits him perfectly, tailored to hang right below his ankles. He slips his fingers over the buttons, quickly closing the robe over his clothes.

He reaches once more into the wardrobe and pulls out the thin silk mask. He holds it before him momentarily, taking in the impact of the situation. He can feel his father's eyes on him, waiting impatiently for him to finish. Draco puts the mask on his face, tying it behind his head. He turns to the mirror beside the wardrobe, pulling the rough hood over his head, effectively hiding his blonde hair.

The image that meets his eyes is enough to stop his heart in fear. He stands before the mirror, not as Draco Malfoy, not as a Hogwarts student, not even as Lucius' son. He stands before the mirror as a man, a Death Eater. With this robe and this mask, he'll be able to instill the fear into the hearts of any wizard he encounters, including himself.

Lucius pulls on his own mask and leads his son from the bedroom to the library, his pace quick and steady. Once in the library, he points his wand to the oversized fire place and whispers a few words. A green swirl comes from the tip of his wand and sweeps through the fireplace, revealing a flight of stairs leading towards the stone cellar of Malfoy Manor.

Draco follows his father quietly, trying his best to keep his hands from shaking and revealing his fear. After several moments spent in the dark cellar, he and his father reach a large room lit by several wall torches. He is astounded by the number of people filling the room as he enters. So many faceless masks staring back at him. It sends chills down his spine.

Standing in the midst of all the blank masks is a pseudo-man, Lord Voldemort. Draco watches as his father steps up to Voldemort and kneels before the snake-like man before standing again. Draco does the same and stands beside his father.

Lord Voldemort stands facing the mass of black-clad wizards, his red slit eyes taking in the scene before him. Today he'll be taking in several new Death Eaters, most of them sons of other loyal followers.

Voldemort motions with his hands and the new members step forward, ready to be inducted into his group. He watches as they all gather around a large cauldron, their eyes downcast, hands clasped at their waists.

"Place your left wrist over the cauldron," Voldemort instructs the group before him. He draws his wand across the row of wrists. A line of red appears on each person's wrist, thin at first, then thicker as the blood is drawn out of the wounds.

Each lets their wound drain into the cauldron, adding their blood to the green-hued concoction already bubbling at the bottom. After several moments, Voldemort waves his wand across the bleeding wrists and their wounds are healed.

Draco winces as his wrist is sliced open, and once more as it heals. His father never mentioned the pain of the ceremony, he notes angrily. He watches as Voldemort moves his wand in a clockwise circle, whispering an incantation to himself. He wishes there was some way to slow his heart beat, sure that Voldemort will recognize the fear emanating from him.

Draco forces himself to stand very still in the hushed room, listening with the others to the raspy whispers of Voldemort. The Dark Lord stops and raises his slitted eyes to his future Death Eaters; Draco struggles not to look away, suppressing the shudder that threatens to overtake him.

As he fights the emotions, Draco vaguely registers a weighted goblet being placed in his hands. Not until Voldemort speaks once more does he realize that the goblet in his hand contains the repellant brew interlaced with his and the other's blood.

"Every one of you now hold in your hands the very thing that will allow you to become a member of my own Death Eaters. All you must do now is drink the potion until the glass is empty."

Draco glances down at the potion in his glass, feeling his stomach churn at the thought of swallowing a speck of it. He glances back into the Dark Lord's face, noticing the glimmer of pride in his red eyes.

"Go on, drink up!" He encourages as several begin to sip the drink.

Draco brings the glass to his lips, trying to ignore the smell that is threatening to overtake his senses; the smell of rotting flesh. When his stomach gives a tremendous lurch in protest, he begins to quickly swallow down the contents of his goblet. As the drink slides down his throat, Draco decides that the potion tastes just as it smells, like rotting flesh. Not that he knows what that actually tastes like.

Draco swallows the last bit, suddenly aware of the groans of pain beside him. He looks around to see the others near him collapsing to the floor and clawing at their arms.

Draco's vision flashes white for a moment as pain laces through his own body. He looks down at his arm, shocked at intensity of the pain emanating from it. His eyes widen in fright as he watches his skin rip open, cracking and bleeding, the outline of a snake and skull visible. He fights the urge to grab at the gouges in his skin as it begins to itch and tingle, the pain slowly ebbing away. Just as suddenly as they appear, the ugly red wounds begin to fade, only to blacken, becoming a glaring black mark.

Draco suddenly tries to suppress the panic that has taken over his heart as the realization washes over him. He can't hide from the reality suddenly facing him, glaring at him from his now tarnished skin. He is now a Death Eater.


End file.
